


No No No

by shalashaska



Series: You're Nobody 'Til Somebody Loves You [2]
Category: Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Alien Abduction, Aliens, Arcade does not know what he is doing at all, Doctor/Patient, Humiliation, I went fucking overboard with the slime, Medical Procedures, Mpreg, Other, Science Fiction, Slime, Trans Male Character, Worms, amateur and potentially dangerous midwifery practices
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-02
Updated: 2018-04-02
Packaged: 2019-04-17 13:20:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14189832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shalashaska/pseuds/shalashaska
Summary: I have... outdone myself. Heed the tags.Might continue this, I dunno.





	1. Cold Light

Everything had been engulfed in surreal light. In a single moment the courier, that goddamn robot, and even that NCR sniper she had such a puppy-dog affection for were all obscured by the glow. He felt a bizarre twisting in his stomach as if he were close to being sick, as if he'd been shaken violently or force-fed. He reeled and grabbed at his abdomen, doing his best to resist but before he knew it he was starting to fall unconscious. His entire body felt weightless, queasy and overheated. He was gone.

He heard her scream, heard him scream too. The robot made a series of distressed sounds, whining and metallic.

–

He woke in an unfamiliar bed, his head pounding painfully as he could almost feel his pulse through his veins. If he didn't know better, he'd assume he were hungover from a particularly reckless night at the wrangler – he almost expected to roll over and see one of those scarred up guards lying peacefully unconscious next to him. Wasn't that normally how it turned out?

Instead he heard the familiar but grating sound of Julie Farkas' cooing.

“Hey, hey. You alright there Arcade? Feeling bad?” She petted his shoulder with medical efficiency. “We found you in a Freeside dumpster of all places. Can't say how you got there.”

He groaned. “Not even one clue? I swear, I was with courier six and that Boone... Down southward...” Slurring involuntarily, he gripped at his nose-bridge with his fingers. He noted that his glasses were not on his face – they were on a nearby table. “The light. It was so intense.”

“You weren't dirty or anything, so we couldn't figure out where you'd been. You were squeaky clean!” She handed his glasses to him and allowed him to drag himself upright. As he wobbled, she put a hand out to steady him. “Take it easy, now. I can't imagine what you've been through.”

She was right. He felt very clean. The only unusual sensations he could observe were his crippling hangover and the bizarrely clinical lack of dust and other mojave filth on his skin. The usual itches and discomfort he felt were unusually alleviated.

“Just what on earth has happened to me?”

Julie was unable to give him anything but a look of concern, a decent breakfast and some words of good will as he finally got to walking. Getting some food in him definitely reduced the pounding in his head somewhat, but he still had to muscle through an incessant throbbing as he made his way through the streets.

A local thug must have seen him as an easy target, inching closer with a battered-looking steel pipe readied. He didn't fret about this, though. Unholstering his defender for a few warning shots sent him fleeing eventually.

A young man in a tell-tale leather jacket approached him through the blur of the scenery.

“Hey, doc! You feeling okay? You look a little unwell there.”

He probed about whether or not anything unusual had been happening lately. The boy brought a hand to his chin and scratched at his peach fuzz. He mentioned that a tourist he had escorted to the Strip's north gate had told him about something unusual happening close to the 188 Trading Post. Apparently there had been a dumpster on the road, standing amongst the ruins of an old world pitstop restaurant. The tourist had heard a pained noise from within, and had fled at the thought it might be haunted.

Arcade knew this was where he'd need to go. He had an overwhelming feeling that he'd need to get there as soon as possible. Stopping to pick up some food on the way out, he made his way to the gate. The Mojave was not easy to travel alone, but he would have to brave it for now.

–

When he saw the ruins on the horizon, he didn't fully register that it could be the place. He was growing weary, his knees starting to ache from a third consecutive hour of trekking the battered and ruined road. He had to take down a couple of Bloatflies that had chosen a nearby trailer as their home, but before long he had made it. He propped himself against a crumbling wall, wiping at his brow and at the places where his armour under-layer clung to his skin. Sweat and dirt had settled familiarly into the cracks and corners of his person. His mind was now clear as ever – hid body, though, was tired and battered by the sun.

He heard a ragged whine, tinted by a metallic echo. Turning to investigate, sure enough it came from inside a dumpster. Inching towards it, his fingers traced the handle of his plasma weapon. He couldn't be too careful.

As he lifted the lid, he didn't know whether to be surprised or relieved. He settled for both.

Boone was also very clean – cleaner than he'd ever seen the guy, anyway. He was sweating, though. In fact, he was covered in a sheen of sweat and looked pale with exhaustion.

“Boone! Hey, are you alright? Talk to me.”

Boone looked up at him, eyes wide behind the tint of his glasses. He whimpered. “H-help me, Doc.”

Offering a hand to him, Arcade assisted the younger man out of the dumpster. He seemed to tremble in his movements somewhat, his lower body lacking strength. Scrabbling inside the otherwise empty dumpster for his hat, he slotted it back into place on his smooth head, and swallowed hard. He was upright now, but still had to steady himself by clutching at the Follower doctor's shoulder.

“Boone. Talk to me.”

“The white light. It knocked us, hah, out. Woke up here. Feels so weird.”

Arcade's eyebrow hitched up a little at that. “Weird how? I know I woke up with a killer headache.”

“So weird, Doc. I can't walk right. Not for long.” He could barely get his words out.

Arcade dug around in his pack and produced a can of pork and beans for the soldier, opening it up for him and offering him a spoon.

Boone ate like he hadn't eaten anything before. He was done way sooner than Arcade had considered possible, scooping the last of the sauce into his mouth messily and wiping at his lips with his shirt, a pale brown smear on the already dirty white fabric.

“Been in there for a few days. Not much to eat.”

He got up again, and Arcade quickly helped him steady. “Don't worry. There's a shack nearby we can rest up at. I'm weak in the legs too, from getting here as quickly as I could.”

Boone mumbled, close to his ear as he relied on him for balance. His boots scuffed on the ground as they walked. “You knew I was here?”

“People have been hearing you in there, thinking you're a ghost. You might be affecting local tourism.” He punctuated this with a little, weak smile.

A weak little laugh, more a stutter of breath than anything, left the sniper. At least he was able to find some humour in the confusion.

The doctor kicked the door open, making sure Boone was comfortably propped on a dirty couch before securing the door closed. He had to prop it shut with an ancient vacuum cleaner, but it did the job well enough. He offered the man some bottled water, which he gratefully inhaled. After his whistle was sufficiently wetted, Boone tried to speak again.

“God, I can't get over the feelin-” He was interrupted by a slight convulsion in his body, and he doubled over. Clutching at his hips he gasped and groaned.

Arcade was at his side in moments, rubbing circles into his back and asking him repeatedly how he felt. Boone was a vibrant shade of beet red, sweating more than ever.

“I don't know... what they did to me. Put something, uh, inside of me.”

“Inside of you? How?”

“Can feel it. It's inside of me. Still alive in there.”

Gannon paled, unsure what to make of that. “Wh-what on earth are you talking about?”

He only thrashed again, his legs clenching together as he gripped his abdomen again. Whatever was inside of him is wasn't sitting still at all.

“Need to lie. Aaah! Gotta lie down.” With that, he was kicking his boots off and lowering himself onto his back again; Arcade became very aware of something he hadn't noticed before. His stomach was a little bloated – noticeable but not at a first glance.

“Your body... Boone, what happened?”

“Don't know. It's inside me. Not gonna stay in for long.”

Whatever had caught them back then had obviously done something to him, but what? For the first time in what felt like forever, Arcade was medically thrown for a loop. He didn't know where to even start.

Boone was still wriggling, his legs kicking out. For fear of being accidentally kicked in the gut, Arcade gripped his knees reassuringly and steadied him. Immediately, Boone looked up at him and spoke again.

“Doc. Help. Please.” His voice was hoarse in his throat as he gasped between his words. He contracted again, and Arcade felt like a midwife on their first day. He was certain there was something he could do. He just needed guidance.

He noticed that the soldier's hands were gripping at his pants, tangling in the fabric in desperate outward tugs. “Doc. Help.” He repeated.

“What do you want me to do?” He eventually said, audibly nervous and afraid. “Just, uh, give me a hint.” It was his turn to wipe at his brow.

“Take 'em off. Help me take 'em off.”

Now he had an especially bad feeling. He nodded slowly, and got to work. Assisting Boone out of his shirt, then his pants, he laid the clothes carefully over the back of the couch.

The slight bulge in the man's stomach was a lot more obvious now, jutting out of his lower belly in the most bizarre but fascinating way. He made eye contact with the man for a moment, scanning for permission with a hovering hand. After Boone gave him a weak nod, he let his hand rest on his distended belly.

It was moving. Through the skin and muscle layers he could feel something there, moving. That explained all the contractions, at least. It also set his heart pounding in fear and anticipation for what this man's fate would be.

They had never been particularly close – there had been some awkward conversation peppered throughout their stay at the Lucky 38, but Boone was a man of few words. Neither of them were particularly fond of talking about themselves, either. Arcade was used to seeing complete strangers in medical distress, but it was something else to see a man like Boone in this situation. He knew him and was familiar with him already, but knew little about him personally. He didn't know what made him tick, and he'd have to learn all of that through whatever the hell this was.

He let his hand rest fully against Boone's skin, trying to get a gauge on exactly how much movement there was. It was increasing in intensity – at first the movement was only slight, but whatever was inside of Boone was starting to become more and more frantic.

“Doc. Scared. What's happening, Doc?” He was growing increasingly desperate and breathing harder.

“Not sure, Boone. I think it's moving a little more over time.”

“Yeah. Gettin' more restless. Not gonna be long.”

“Until...?”

“Until- 'Til it wants out.”

“Oh.”

“Help me. Please.”

 


	2. All The Way Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is where shit gets nasty okay

he man was completely panicking, now, and with good reason. He did all that he could think of doing, and moved the hand he already had on his stomach. He made reassuring circles on the man's belly, trying to ease the discomfort even a little bit.

The squirming increased, and Boone threw his head back against the plush cushions of the couch. This time he let out a full-frontal moan, causing Arcade's eyes to widen, and then his own.

“W-was that bad?”

“D-dunno. Maybe bad. Maybe kind of, uh, good.”

The poor man was confused and terrified, and Arcade had only made things scarier for him. The fast and intense squirming inside of him only continued. It became clear than whatever was inside of him was not alone.

“It feels like... There's more than one.”

“Really? Huh. Shit.” Boone breathed hard and heavy and then hesitantly grabbed at his underwear.

Arcade hadn't had the nerve to look down before now, but was suddenly aware of the growing wet patch in the other man's boxer briefs. He looked up again, looking for permission to touch.

“Fuck. Please. Take 'em off me.” Boone threw his hips around, so Arcade had to steady him again to get a good look.

He wasn't sure where all of it was coming from. The fabric was sopping wet, though. He tried not to overthink it as he peeled the underwear off of the man's hips, exposing more of his scarred and beaten skin. It was only messier inside – something was oozing out of him.

His pulse was racing through every inch of his skin that Arcade happened to touch. The inside of his underwear was covered in a translucent and slightly green goo. That wasn't a good sign. The substance was all over his genitals as well, as it continued to seep out of his hole.

“Doc. It's all comin' out, Doc. I'm scared.”

Arcade rubbed his hip and cooed to him, doing his best to comfort the man. He wasn't great at comforting people, or at interacting in general. This would have to do. It seemed to do nicely enough. Boone's breathing didn't slow, but it at least steadied and became less ragged. He was willing to relax just a little into the doctor's touch, and that was something.

“I'm here, okay? I'm a doctor. I don't really know what's going on, but-” He adjusted his glasses and watched as a particularly thick mass of goo oozed out of Boone's pussy. It was disturbing and awful, but there was something so weirdly fascinating about it that kept his attention. It must have been scientific curiosity, of course. Nothing more.

“C-can you... look? Might. Come out. Soon.” He panted through his contractions, and Arcade gripped his forearm to keep him steady. Boone gripped back, so that they had a firm hold of each other's arms just below the wrist.

“Well, okay. I'm going to have to approach cautiously, of course.” He let his other hand move gradually from his hip to his mons pubis, grateful for the fact that his armour came with gloves.

His fingers made the gentlest of contact with his slick skin, pressing into his flesh with utmost caution. Boone shuddered and practically screamed, causing the doctor to freeze and study his face for a moment before another nod and a squeeze on his arm that was just a little too hard urged him on.

As slowly as he could, Arcade pushed at his labia for a better look, exposing his hole more fully. His dick was twitching to life, slowly swelling for some reason.

“You okay, Boone? Talk to me.”

“Kinda. Embarrassing.”

“I'm your doctor. I'm not going to judge you.”

“Touching me. Feels... Good.” He avoided eye contact as he spoke, licking at his lips and sucking air through his teeth.

Arcade internally flagellated himself for enjoying that – this was not the time to be fixated on the man's growing erection. He'd have to ignore it as best he could and continue the examination. His armour felt a bit too tight all of a sudden as he found himself flushing slightly.

“You'll just have to endure it, Boone. I'm gonna do my best to make this easier.”

Boone nodded enthusiastically, obviously itching for this to be over already.

He went back to probing. This time he was a lot less shy with his touch, pulling the labia apart with two fingers and doing his best not to hear how the sniper pitched up in response. He'd never heard such a high-pitched noise from this man, who was normally so stoic and composed. Focus, Arcade. This is NOT the time for that.

Another mass of liquid erupted from inside him, and it was dripping onto the couch now. There was something else that caught Arcade's eye, too.

The edges of his hole were twitching; they were opening up. Something was coming out. Boone arched his back and cried out as he contracted again. Fuck. He really was playing midwife here. This was not his area of expertise in any sense. He didn't know what to feel.

“C-coming. Fuck, so scared-”

Arcade instinctually propped Boone's legs out so that it would come out more easily – he didn't know what was coming at all, but the least he could do was make sure it didn't hurt the man on the way out.

Tears were pouring from the soldier's eyes now. They spilled out from under the rim of his tinted glasses. It was a miracle they'd stayed on – his beret, too. He was whining and screaming through clenched teeth, and the doctor could only do so much to calm him down as he watched something emerge from within him.

It was a couple of inches wide, and black. It was glistening and black, and covered in that translucent liquid. What the fuck was that? What the fuck was coming out of Boone?

It peeked out of his hole, and it was moving still. Fuck, it was thrashing around inside of him. Arcade knew that all he could do was alleviate the overwhelming sensation of it, so he placed a thumb on either side and spread him open. Boone gasped and let out one more weak, hoarse cry as it finally wriggled out of him.

Its fat, short body writhed on the couch for a few moments. It stuck around long enough for Arcade to get a good look. It was some kind of worm, about 4 inches long. It was a shiny black colour and it thrashed with surprising energy for a creature just born. It was fat, its skin creased and bloated. It hopped around until it was on the wooden floor of the shack, and Arcade watched in confusion as it made a beeline for a gap in the floor boards, borrowing into the ground. What the fuck was that? Where the hell was it going?

“Oh my God, Boone. Any idea what that was?”

“W-worm? I... I don't. I don't know.” Boone was bucking his hips and crying out again as another came in quick succession.

Correction – three came, non-stop and seemingly all at once. Boone really screamed this time, and again they followed their sibling through the gap in the floor and into the ground underneath.

“H-how many? Doc. How many?”

“Uh. Well, uh... four so far. It seems like your stomach is going down a little.”

“Oh. Good. Okay. Fuck.”

“I'll do all I can to help you with this. I promise.”

Boone looked at him with pleading eyes, his shades lopsided on his face. He thrashed again and they were sent to the floor, a light clatter of metal on wood. “Doc. Thanks. Thanks so much.”

Arcade pushed on either side of his opening, encouraging his walls to twitch and move a little. Sure enough, that worked. Another was peeking out soon, and Boone's mouth was open, his eyes clenched shut.

This one was longer. He knew because after 4 inches were out it kept coming. This one was about 7 inches long. Just a little thicker, too. It moved more slowly but with more strength and its movements seemed to make the man's hips jolt and jump. Once it was out, it made its way to the hole at a leisurely pace compared to the others.

His stomach has considerably flattened now, with the loss of this particularly large worm. He was starting to feel a little less scared, knowing it would soon be over.

“You're doing very well, Boone. Not long to go.”

“Doc. Doc. Aaah! Arc- Arcade.”

Boone could do little else but grip the couch's cushions and cry out for mercy. Arcade dared to put a hand on his stomach again, and this time he pushed down on it.

First, a stream of that green slime came out of him and Arcade noticed that it was very warm through his gloves. Of course it was – it was inside a man's body. This whole experience was catching him off guard, making him feel a bit slow.

After that, another two of them came out. They were out of him much faster than before due to Arcade's assistance. They plopped onto the couch and followed the others. One more was poking out, but struggling to get the other half of its body out of Boone's hole.

This is because Boone was clenching, work out from the effort of pushing the others out of him. This one was also a little weak, its movements stuttering.

“No more. This. Last one.” Boone blurted out as he pushed with the last of his strength.

“You don't feel any more? Good. Just let it out.”

When it was finally out of him, he shuddered and let out one last sound. It was low, relieved. The final worm moved awkwardly towards the hole in the ground, flailed about a few times and then disappeared into the dark burrow.

The two of them just froze in place for a moment, Boone sinking into the cushions of the couch while Arcade held onto his thighs with a protective grip. They were both short of breath, tears stinging their eyes in the aftermath of all the panic. A little more fluid oozed out of Boone until he was fully empty, his stomach a flat expanse of muscle again.

Without even thinking, the doctor leaned over and rested his forehead on the man's stomach, his hands stroking his upper thighs as he whispered little nothings of comfort to him.

“You did so good. I don't know what those were but they're gone now, I promise.”

“Doc. Thanks, Doc. Feeling. Good, now.” He absentmindedly reached down and petted Arcade's hair, and the other was too shaken up to protest, accepting the gesture and humming against his skin.

“We have to clean this up.”

“Oh. Yeah.”

With that, it was as if they snapped out of their weird little trance. They had to focus on the task at hand. Arcade washed some rags in the sink and soaked them in warm water, then returned to the exhausted form of his companion, wiping away the sticky substance that was on his skin.

“Ooh. Wait a second.”

Boone watched in confusion as the doctor produced a sample vial from his pack and scooped some of the liquid inside.

“I couldn't get a live specimen, but this should do well enough. Anything we can learn about what is going on will be helpful.”

“Sounds fair. I just gave birth to some weird... worm things. You might wanna do some research stuff I guess.”

The two of them nodded in agreement and Arcade tucked the sample cautiously into a specialised compartment of his physician's bag. He continued to wipe away the rest of the residue until Boone was relatively clean. The rags were filthy, though. He washed them off again, watching the slime spiral down the drain.

Once the couch was wiped down - and the underside of Boone's ass as well, much to the doctor's embarrassment – Boone let out a sigh.

“Fuckin' tired.”

“I can't blame you for that. Do you want to get to bed? I can finish up on my own, after all.”

There were, luckily, two beaten up mattresses on the floor that looked clean enough to sleep on. Dressing himself in a fresh pair of underwear and putting his pants back on, he figured the shirt would be too much hassle to put on. Boone dug around for a bed sheet in a cabinet, threw it over the makeshift bedding and laid down on it. Arcade noted that his walking was a little compromised – he was moving very slowly and seemed to wince a bit with each step. His nerves were probably overstimulated and his lower body somewhat sore from the ordeal.

Arcade cleaned up and washed the filth off of his gloves in silence. Boone fell asleep very quickly, his light snoring quickly kicking in under the sound of the running water. The hole in the floor was bugging him, so the doctor found a stray piece of wood and slotted it over the gap. It would at least give him some peace of mind for long enough to grant him some rest. Taking off his armour plates he let the cooling air of night settle into his skin. Had it really become that late? It must have been a couple of hours if that was the case.

He didn't overthink it, stripping down to just his underwear and shirt and laying down a sheet on the mattress next to Boone. There was a lot that needed looking into – what the fuck was going on and where was that courier? Was she okay? Those questions would have to wait for later. He was fucking exhausted in every possible way.

 


End file.
